Look Through My Eyes
by Xigbutt
Summary: The life of Ataile, a draconian who grows from living in incredulously poor conditions to being a famed warrior. Is it better than this summary lets on? I'll let you decide.


_Drip, drip, drip._

This was the first sound that reached Ataile Krell's ears in the early morning light, as he slowly awoke. It had rained the night before, and the bucket beneath the hole in the roof was now collecting water that fell from it. His bright blue eyes opened, blinking a few times to rid them of sleep, and he stretched his small, thin arms. Sitting up, he looked around him. In this small, two-room, wooden mess of a shack, he and his large family lived.

Next to him, his younger sister, Elizabeth- one of 3-, stirred quietly in her sleep. He huffed. 'Lucky little girl, doesn't have to do any work.' He thought, sticking his tongue out at her. He looked down at his feet, noticing that the last two feet or so of her tail was wrapped around his right ankle. He rolled his eyes, reaching his hands down to unwrap his foot, and felt the pins and needles of a blood-deprived vein.

He pushed the tan, sheet-thin blanket off of himself, and stood, stretching the rest of his sore limbs. He walked into the second room, which served as a washroom, and a place to cook. It was the smaller of the two, and didn't have much room at all for moving around, seeing as it was mostly occupied by a washtub over a pit and another pit for a fire. A large pan sat in the pit currently, catching the water that came through the hole in the ceiling for smoke from the fire to escape.

Walking outside through the small doorway, he grabbed a bucket from a stack of buckets, which was surrounded by stacks of pans, plates, bags of forks, knives, spoons, and other assorted cooking or eating utensils. He walked down to the small pond, shooing away the annoying, loud waterfowl that his family raised for food. Most food was obtained by hunting, though. He filled the bucket, and walked back to the washtub, dumping the water into it. He repeated this process several times until he'd filled it.

By this time, his family had awoken. He was always the first to wake, and made use of this time to enjoy the peaceful moments before his mother woke as well, and went to yelling the others awake and getting them to their jobs. He quickly grabbed a washcloth and began to scrub himself clean, washing behind his long ears, his horns, face, hands, and arms.

Ezekiel, the youngest brother, poked his head through the cloth curtain, the only means of privacy between the two rooms, other than the walls. "Hurry up, Ataile. We 'ave to get to work." He said. Ataile nodded silently, and moved aside for the other five children, glad he'd missed his mother's yelling. On his way out, he grabbed a loaf of bread, which was soon being fought over between him and his oldest brother, Roan.

"Give it 'ere, Ataile!" He growled, swinging at the smaller boy. Ataile was quick, though, and dodged out of the way easily. He laughed, staying a safe distance away, and tore of a chunk, throwing it at his brother. Roan was not as fluid in movement as his brother, however, and the bread fell to the ground. He picked it off and ate it anyways, not wanting to pass up any chance of food.

The two brothers ran down the dirt road together, bare feet unbothered by the sharp rocks. Their tails swished through the air, creating small whistle-like sounds. Roan grinned at him. "I bet you can't beat me to th' mill!" This challenge was accepted by Atale, and they ran even faster to make it before the other.

Ataile, being more lightweight and agile, made it to the mill first. Already, many young men were there, harvesting, plowing, turning wheels, or repairing tools. The sounds rang in the ears of the two boys. Ataile flinched every time a hammer struck a piece of metal, and his brother laughed. The loud sounds weren't nearly as bad to Roan, as he'd lost most of his hearing from working here. It was not uncommon for men to be deaf before their twenties, despite their heightened draconian hearing.

"There you two are! I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up." A large draconian said, moving to stand before them. He easily towered over the two, being at least seven feet tall. This came as no surprise- most draconian males were of that height, if not taller.

"Hello, Nalik." Roan said, dipping his head in respects. Ataile did the same, not wanting to anger the extremely short-tempered man. "Hey, kids." He said. "Report to your posts. Ataile, you're on cutting duty today." Nalik turned on his heel and left. Ataile let out a sigh of relief. "Cutting duty. Not at all bad." He said. Roan laughed at him. "Yeah, he only put you on the'e because you're so small!" He said, punching his younger brother in the arm.

Ataile rubbed his arm, grimacing. "How polite." He said, rolling his eyes. He walked towards the field to work, grabbing the large knife, similar to the modern machete. He made his way through the small dirt paths, joining his team. One draconian, a male named Teirn, was in dragon form, a large metal collar around his neck, hooked to a wagon behind him by thick chains. He would be hauling the wheat. Two more, in humanoid form, stood near him. They were the collectors, the ones who would walk next to the wagon, filling it with wheat that Ataile would cut.

"So, you guys ready to work?" Tern asked, turning his long neck to look at their newest arrival. Ataile nodded. "Yes. Better sooner than later." And, without waiting for them to say anything else, he headed on, slicing through the wheat, right at the base. They worked like this for four or five hours before stopping for a break. Sitting in the dirt, Ataile wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, taking a few deep breaths. Tern sat on his haunches, watching the horizon silently.

Soon, it would be time to go home, thankfully. They just had this one section to finish, which was about another square mile. With the speed of their work, it would take only an hour, give or take a few minutes. Ataile decided to get a start on this, and stood, grabbing his knife once more. "Back to work, boys." He said, swinging the knife through another cluster of wheat.

Hours later, they had finished baling the wheat. Nalik had decided at last minute to have them bale the wheat they'd collected, and now, Ataile was just ready to go home. His small, nine-year-old body couldn't take so much stressing work. His shoulders and head drooped, his tail dragging on the ground. Tern eyed him, chuckling a bit. "You poor thing. So tired." He said. Ataile nodded. "Yeah.. It's been a long day, you know?" Tern nodded, not saying anything else.

Finally, the foursome was allowed to go home. Roan had had left much earlier, so Ataile's only companion was his shadow in the moonlight. He walked for what felt like hours, not even bothering to eat his dinner before falling tiredly into one of the three beds, falling into an exhausted sleep.


End file.
